The Chord - Poem by Erin Mouré
Courageous lair "might prevail"
Waking up to her your "yellow coal"
Steals a its way
harm's imbrogliatic murmur
has been "said"
a mortal habitation or cut in air
that air leaks through
Tricked again out of
The oscillatory hum in the head, or
continual reaction in the wet mouth to
old oranges, or
mistakes in form
"I retain a clear memory of afternoon light."
A vertebra unfolds its wing, its smallest
wing, the pleasure particulate of such a wing
a our mycelium
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye